


Where do we go from here

by HoshisamaValmor (HannibalCatharsis)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Developing Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 18:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibalCatharsis/pseuds/HoshisamaValmor
Summary: Neither of them are looking for anything but comfort.





	Where do we go from here

**Author's Note:**

> This is the 100th fanfic uploaded on my ffnet account. Although it isn't the actual 100th story, with some translations and fanfics that got deleted from way back when, I still like that the milestone actually has the first romantic/adult scene I've ever written.
> 
> Takes place somewhere on the 6 year time jump of season 9. Maybe when the rift between the communities has started to grow more.
> 
> The title comes from the beautiful song 'Where Are We Going' by Kevin Sheerwood and Malukah, but this was actually written to 'Always Running' by the same two and to the very conventionally romantic songs 'Problème d'émotion' and 'Au Revoir' by Igorrr.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own TWD.

They had been in silence for some good five minutes now as they finished eating their meal. Not an uncomfortable silence, but one that grew increasingly filled with expectation of how it would be broken. At least that's how Aaron felt it. He decided that standing up and taking the dishes might be a nice way to hijack some more time to think on what to say, or cheat Jesus into breaking it before him.

"Let me help you," Jesus said immediately. Aaron's breathing got a bit lighter; he had won that one.

"You are my guest, you know," he recalled, using the cheap host card. As expected, it had little effect. Jesus rolled his sleeves up and started running water in the sink. "Thanks."

The short exchange clearly didn't give him enough boost to pick up and keep the silence from befalling again and making his palms itch. Aaron quickly started to dry the plates and tableware Jesus handed him, thinking of Tara, who had looked after Gracie for the day and was already expecting to sleep over for the night when they had arrived. Her sleepy eyes had sparkled up from seeing the two of them, and she had been quick and not too subtle to hurry back home, pointing to the pan of dried pasta she had cooked for herself and left enough to spare, delivering a curt and simple report on Gracie having played for the entire day and therefore would likely sleep like a rock for the whole night. Her winking at Jesus in specific didn't go unnoticed as she left and wished them good night, and he had wondered for a minute what background conversation had prompted it.

There was something, definitely. Perhaps the close encounter with the herd of walkers on their way back, how they fought back to back and all their practice had proved flawless, the rush of adrenaline and joy he heard on Jesus's voice and that he felt pumping through his own body, how breathless it had left them. Purely happy to be alive. Perhaps the peacefulness of shared moments, the hours of conversations, of trusting and sharing too little and too much, of growing and getting to know who this man was and how much Aaron trusted him. Perhaps how he felt Jesus trusted  _him_  against what he expected.

"Do we go to sleep?" Jesus's voice brought him back to the present. He had turned to face Aaron, his expression calm, his blue eyes looking into his and reassuring him of something Aaron didn't even know what it was.

Perhaps this.

"No."

Jesus straightened his body. His gaze fluttered away from Aaron's eyes for a second, enough time to make Aaron's throat dry.

"You know, I... I don't..." Aaron hesitated, struggling to find words he felt would express his real intention, anything that wouldn't sound offensive or wrong. Like he didn't want it. Company, friendship. Comfort."I feel safe with you. I enjoy your company. But I'm not expecting... I don't want..."

 _I don't want anything else. Not now, not yet._  Not anything but comfort. Not a relationship, or... why should he even wonder about it all of a sudden? He sighed in frustration. Before, he wouldn't have made such a thinking fuss over it, no need for explanations for himself or others as to why he wanted something or not, something more than that comfort he had slowly begun to crave so much again. But that had been too many years ago. He wasn't the same person after so long. Specially not after Eric.

"Aaron."

"I just... I don't know where we should go from here."

"Hey." Aaron turned his face up to the other man. "I don't think we have to go anywhere. I like you. I enjoy your company. That's enough for me."

Aaron's lips parted, that little moment of hesitation if he should say anything else. His gaze fell from Jesus's eyes to his lips, one second, two, before fluttering back.

"I... that's enough for me too."

And that was really the only thing that mattered.

He didn't know why it hadn't happened before when they were both somewhere outside scavanging or training, during one of their long shared talks or the nights they'd spent in makeshift safeplaces when time just passed by too fast for them to safely return to a community. God knows they'd have the privacy and time for it, and how natural and arguably more sensible it would have been. Why here, of all places, with Gracie sleeping upstairs, in the home that had so many memories and history?

The questions didn't vanish as Aaron's hand brushed over the skin of Jesus's arm, the touch becoming more tangible as it trailed up to his elbow, to his shoulder, to his hair, but their echo was pushed to a further place when his hand cupped the other man's cheek and he felt Jesus's mirroring his movement and pulling him close. Aaron leaned forward and met Jesus's lips, a soft, careful touch that soon became longer and more meaningful. It forced them to drive apart just enough to draw breath. Their faces still close, their lips still touching, and Aaron couldn't keep a hold of his heart beating and aching for the warmth, the physical contact, to be close to someone again.

Jesus hands fell from his face to his chest, holding him and pulling him closer. It was Aaron's turn to mirror him, feeling the other man's heart through the shirt, but the touch felt too lacking and his hand slid under the fabric, taking his time to trace the lines of his muscles and the warmth of his skin. His left arm hanged on the side of his hip, and he could almost feel the phantom limb holding him. Jesus's touches descended too, but past the hem of his shirt to his trousers and he took Aaron's moan into his mouth as he kissed him.

"Come with me," he managed to say. Jesus followed without hesitation.

They climbed up the stairs and Aaron barely minded the mess he had left his bedroom in earlier that morning, closing the door behind them. Jesus didn't seem to mind it either, quickly guiding Aaron back to him. He tried to return to where he had stopped, a task that became harder when Jesus started to undress Aaron's shirt instead. Trying to get rid off the prosthetic takes a moment that doesn't sway Aaron, not like he once feared it would. The sight of the stump was not anything new to both of them, but like everything else here, it was different in its own right, so Jesus made sure his mind didn't have time to wonder anywhere else and helped him taking off his own shirt, strands of hair ruffling out of their place and falling to his face in a way that made Aaron's heart skip a beat.

"Can you let your hair down?" he asked. Jesus smiled and raised his hands up to the tie.

"It's not the most pratical thing in the world," he added, but Aaron didn't mind it at all. It had been a long time since he had seen Jesus's hair down for more than the couple of seconds he'd take to loosen and wrap it back up after longer trainings or after waking up, and it had become longer than he remembered, falling down to the middle of his chest already. The sight felt more intimate than he ever considered it before, a physical image of the trust they shared.

It made him look younger, but now Aaron saw the tiniest difference. He had noticed before under sunlight, but here at home, and this close, he could see how the gleam he'd spot sometimes was the reflection of soft strands of silver that had begun to grow over the light brown. It made Aaron smile for some reason.

Jesus caught his lingering gaze and he pulled a strand behind his ear in reflex, much like he used to wear it before.

"What's on your mind?"

"You already have grey hair."

He blinked. The second of silence lasted until he let out a laugh, his face somewhat hidden behind the curtain of hair, so Aaron couldn't be sure if the redness in his cheeks was real or not.

Okay, probably not the best line to set up a mood. Aaron cleared his throat, hoping he wasn't blushing too much. At least, the silverlining was the way Jesus kept smiling, telling him it was alright.

"Well, I'm definitely not getting younger."

"It looks great." A bit cringeworthy childish ammend to his ears, but it was the truth. They definitely looked a lot better on Jesus than they did on him. Aaron wasn't getting any younger either.

The moment allowed him to take in the lines of Jesus's face under a different perspective and a different feeling that made him see more than he had seen the first times they'd met. The soft dusting of white that was starting to creep into his beard as well, how the corners of his lips pulled up so beautifully when he smiled, the strong lines of his nose, the soft lines the war had left on his forehead as hints of wrinkles. How impressively blue his eyes were upclose. The thought quickly crossed his mind, how, a lifetime ago, he probably wouldn't have ever approached a man like him, as beautiful and as unreachable as him.

They fell down to the bed, Jesus rolling over Aaron and pinning him against the bed with a smile.

"You still need to practice that."

Aaron's chuckle showed how breathless he was. "I beated you last time," he recalled.

"Yes, thanks for reminding me it still hurts," Jesus joked, hand flying to the side of his head where the prosthestic had hit him pretty hard that time. Aaron had to smile at the memory, of how embarrassed and guilty he had felt for the miss-hit.

Aaron caressed the side of his face, feeling the softness of the other man's hair before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear again.

"Have I ever told you how good your hair makes you look?"

"I don't think you have, no."

The moment of silence was filled with more expectation than ever. Jesus was still smiling when he lowered his face to Aaron's lips, surrendering immediately when Aaron guided him to the side and rolled over him instead. The man's long hair fell in a halo around his head where Aaron's fingers pushed themselves into as he kissed him again, harder, panting for air as Jesus's touches on his back grew stronger and more purposeful in their direction. He grazed a fresh bruise, but the feeling grounded Aaron harder to the moment rather than hurt him. Aaron's lips seemed to still be dry as they left his mouth to start a trail of kisses from Jesus's throat to his collarbone and his hand kept tracing where they'd follow. The effect it had on Jesus's breathing, making it slowly fall to broken sighs, felt more intoxicating than he remembered. Jesus helped him to undo both their trousers, pulling him closer again and guiding his touch back to his thighs, his body shuddering under Aaron and making him gasp in return. The grip on Aaron's hair tightened and betrayed the eagerness he was also feeling, how nervous he also was.

Their lips and fingers explored each others bodies everyway different than they had before, taking the way their touches made the other react, how their muscles tensed for release, each of their breathings becoming shallower and heavier in turns and overcoming all their senses, how much both of them missed and craved this. It wasn't like any of them lasted too long, too eager and on edge for being close to someone again. It made them both share a relaxed, satisfied laugh. Jesus rolled on the bed to turn to Aaron, head leaning on his palm and a thin layer of sweat near his hairline as he sighed, tired but content.

"We really are getting old."

"Don't say that," Aaron threw at him, the warm chuckle making his chest vibrate.

"I told you I used to think I'd be dead by thirty," Jesus recalled, letting himself fall back on the bed again. "When the world ended, I just thought I might have been right the whole time, but turns out I've been doing a good job at staying alive. White hairs and all."

Aaron laughed now. "I'm the one that used to face warlords and guns before, and you're the one that thought you'd die."

He shrugged. "I just couldn't picture myself anywhere. Dying was just as a solid option for my future as any."

"I'm glad the new world broadened your horizons."

Jesus laughed, nodding. Aaron turned to him, resting his cheek on Jesus's shoulder, fingers stroking his abdomen absentmindedly.

"How many people actually call you 'Paul' nowadays?" he asked out of nowhere. It was a random thought that had crossed his mind once or twice, but never really felt relevant enough to ask. It was hard to associate the name with him after knowing him only as Jesus for so long.

"Pretty much no one."

"'Jesus' suits you more."

"I think so too. 'Paul' sounds like a different person now."

After a few moments, Jesus excused himself to the bathroom, the soft rustle of the water running coming through the door as Aaron sighed, feeling his throat dry from the raspy breathing he had been reduced to until minutes ago. When he decided to stand up and try to turn his bed into something presentable, Jesus had already returned, his touch warm against his hips.

"Sorry about the mess," he finally said, a bit too much after the fact. Jesus smiled against his shoulder blade.

"As you see, it bothered me immensely."

Aaron turned around to hold Jesus in his arms, kissing him on the top of the head.

"I miss sleeping naked," Aaron commented. "It'd be one of the benefits of actually being in a house and a bed."

"What about Gracie?"

He nodded to the thoughtful mention.

"It'll be alright. We should be safe from waking up startled and butt naked. Hopefully."

Jesus strangled a laugh, an effort that grew increasingly harder as the seconds went by. Aaron started to wonder if his attempted joke had been that good, or just too downright dumb.

"What?"

Jesus waved his head, the smile etched to his face as he freed himself from Aaron's arms and layed down between the bedsheets.

"As long as I'm the one naked in a bed, yes, I think we are fairly safe from any startles."

Aaron blinked, now definitely feeling dumb. "What?"

Jesus still chuckled at whatever was on his mind and left Aaron to wonder on his words. He quickly left it for the next day and just enjoyed the warmth of the other man's skin against his after so long.

.

the end

.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok this was hard to write, and I won't even pretend I'm not nervous with the result. But I like it. Of course, I had to have the most beautiful fic written, Dresden by hedera_helix, as source of inspiration and reference.
> 
> So, reviews and criticism are particularly encouraged on this one, as are corrections to English as usual. Thanks for reading.


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